


The Witch and the Prince

by neolouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Clumsy Harry, F/M, Harry in disguise, Kingdoms, Love Triangle, M/M, Prince!Louis, Prince!Zayn, Random Adventures, Random scenes, Witch!harry, and angst only comes in later chapters, cant believe youre actually reading these tags, enjoy, i think theres a lot of fluff in this, its cute promise, kevin the sword, madieval era, or so it might seem, polite louis, self-centered zayn, witch!gemma, wizard!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neolouis/pseuds/neolouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At this era, witches and wizards are in hiding. One is a rebel. Zayn, the self-centered prince, is against all humanity towards these creatures while his best friend, Louis, prince of the neighbouring country, finds them rather amusing. Well, maybe he finds one in particular amusing with the way 'she' clumsily shows that she's attracted to him. But then again, Zayn is supposed to be the main character who does not go along with the witch... and maybe, just maybe turns this hate into something else? </p><p>AU where Harry is disguised as an ugly witch but still has the attention of two handsome princes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry the Witch Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I know I've deleted three of my works on here (I have them still in my folders so if you happen to be the readers and want me to repost I'll be glad to though I can't promise I will update quickly) but I just don't know how to continue and they lack planning. This, however, will stay for a very, very, very long time as the story is half finished from years ago with original characters so I've decided to make it a fanfiction as they seem to fit. Oh, and yes Demetria is inspired by Demi's name lol
> 
> I rewrote it though since my old writings were crap. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one as much as I've enjoyed rewriting it. And thank you.
> 
> PS this is my first time pairing zarry up so yeah. And louis is beautiful. Just saying.
> 
> (Note: Although the addressing 'Fraulein' comes from German, this story isn't set there)

THE WORLD IS AT war, three kingdoms, six, more, demand for lands. There are about twenty kingdoms but two in particular are the strongest–one of them, continuously fighting for the first place with the other, is named Demetria, the land of green. It has the largest area of forests, jungles and mountains.

At the far end of the kingdom, near to the castle of the Royals, sits Styles Mountain. It was initially referred to as the Lavae Mountain–though its natural bright green contradicts its name–because of the recurring explosions of red clouds coming from the top of it, creating swirling smoke into the atmosphere worshipping the tip of a large mansion that sits there. No one really knew what or who occupied the place until a citizen met a haunting face that caused a silent kingdom for a whole week.

It is believed that a wicked witch lived the dark mansion. She would, they say, catch any passerby and make them hostages or ingredients for her potions. Or so the rumours spread.

One particular night, where the story begins, the kingdom faces a great hurricane. Possibly by the witch’s evildoing as lightning keeps hitting the spinning raven decoration that is the tip of the mansion’s roof. Evildoing, they assume, meanwhile the being under the shivering ceiling crouches under a table wrapped in an invisible blanket.

‘Harry, what on Earth are you doing?’ an owl whines, its feet clinging on the chandelier’s golden length that holds clear, small glass. For a place that seems haunted, the inside sure is as clean as a new bride’s room.

Harry Styles, the infamous “witch”, clears his throat. ‘It’s scary out there.’

The bird rolls its eyes before it flaps its orange wings and pokes the sharp ends of his feet into the wooden surface above The Witch’s head. ‘Get out of there, you’re embarrassing the wizards’ community, you coward!’

‘Ed, don’t be so mean,’ Harry pouts.

‘Get out of there, you have job to do.’

Reluctantly, Harry crawls out of his shelter, standing on his feet only when he arrives at the big pot. He takes the large, wooden stick into his grips and Ed the bird settles on its point. The bright blue eyes look below at the deepness that marks the stick’s path. Then, the eyes look up to watch Harry’s moving yet still figure.

What Ed sees are green eyes hiding behind melting lids, exaggerated pointy nose that falls downwards towards thin, dry lips, the size of a single thread, and a pair of bushy eyebrows. A large, black mole, as big as the smallest marble, sticks under a corner of the lips, with a number of long hairs spurting out of it. Wrinkles pull in every direction of his face. If the bird has its own lips, they would stretch in disgust.

‘Harry, Harry. Why did you do this to yourself?’ Ed sighs, shaking his head.

‘What?’ Harry asks, genuinely confused.

‘Your face. It’s really pretty, why hide it behind this mask?’

‘No witch in the real world has appropriate face.’

‘You’re a wizard, loser. And your sister is beautiful,’ Ed rolls his eyes.

Harry’s expression turns upset. ‘Well, people don’t need to know that. If I hadn’t put this face on, people would welcome themselves to my path, into my palace. That would be troublesome. And if you’re going to stay, you have to live with this.’

With a shrug, Ed clings onto Harry’s shoulder.

‘You think it will work this time?’ it asks as eyes focus on the moving, black liquid.

‘It will. You’ll see, Ed,’ Harry mumbles, unsure himself, ‘you’ll see, Malik, you’ll pay.’

Boiling ingredients spin into a hollow nothingness–dark, unwelcoming, mysterious until a pair of hazel eyes appear. The scenery follows suit, from utter blackness slowly fading into brightness, blurry patterns into a busy marketplace–they zoom out, a full face uncovers, a complete image of a handsome young prince forms.

Two princes–the first one, the very Zayn Malik, the crown prince of Demetria and standing next to him is his childhood best friend from a neighbouring kingdom who has come for a friendly visit.

‘Are your sword polished yet, my friend?’ asks Louis, the prince of Aven. His long, thin sword swirls around in the air, catching the sun beam as he adjusts his arm strength.

Zayn pulls his own wider one from its casing on his belt. ‘I assume, cut perfectly through a three-headed snake last night.’

‘Nice,’ Louis’ lips thin as they pull a smirk.

‘You up to game? It has been a while since we do this,’ Zayn responds to the smirk with his own.

‘Yeah,’ the crack in Louis’ voice makes a soft, attractive vibrator in his words which wins the attention of female citizens who pass by them. ‘Give me a second to sharpen Kev. He’s been a good boy for a week.’ A kiss on the sword. He takes one of the bags of copper that hang on his belt and offers a deal to the blacksmith at their stop. A unique bird that’s rarely seen at their era makes the decoration on the steel that escapes Louis’ touch, screaming at the heavy stone in the blacksmith’s hand.

Zayn admires his own reflection on his sword whilst Louis browses through the daggers on the table. ‘So, Zayn,’ Louis starts, swiping his little fingers on a sharp metal with silver carvings on its cover, ‘is the rumour still going on?’

‘You mean that Styles?’ without waiting for Louis’ answer, he continues, ‘yeah just last night a change of weather caused terror around town. Seems to be coming from her monstrous mansion.’

‘Interesting, innit?’ the smirk reforms on Louis’ pink lips, his eyes on the next weapon in line. ‘Maybe we should visit her sometimes.’

‘Waste of time. I’d rather hunt.’

‘Well, I’d rather meet a witch. They’re almost extinct. Wouldn’t it be nice to surprise a vulnerable witch with none of her kind around? You know, to see what evolution has happened over the past years. If I’d met one, I’d probably have her as the kingdom’s prisoner. To carry tasks that need their magic, you know.’

The crown prince grunts. ‘If I’d met one, I’d kill her right away. Species like that should quickly be gone. Remember what happened to Demetria a century ago.’

‘My friend, even human beings kill one another. Does that make us criminals?’

Zayn shrugs, losing interest in the topic but gaining in his beautiful features.

As Louis continues his argument, between receiving his sword back and walking to the forest, between Zayn humming and rolling eyes, through bowing people as they pass, his mind wanders at the different possibilities of the witch’s nature. Waiting at the gates are two horses, one white, the other black. The white is in green and red armor and it whines at Louis for taking too long to untie him.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Travis,’ Louis whispers. Somehow, his words are less formal with his named possessions. When he settles on the saddle, Louis pats the horse gently to start moving.

The black horse–less fancy, less dressed just as its owner wants him to be–pokes its nose in circles as Zayn ruffles its hair, chuckling at his pet and telling it to follow his friend’s direction.

Half an hour or so, they guard up when they hear a distant growl of a beast. Maybe an ogre–who knows.

Louis tugs the reins with a bit more force than he’s exerted, enough to make Travis stop. ‘Zaynie, I’ve lost the sound,’ he mutters. No answer. He pulls his horse head by a side to turn it around in a semicircle, now faced with endless trees. ‘Zayn?’

A sigh escapes his lips; it isn’t the first time he’s lost him in their hunting game. Though, the dark-haired, quiet one almost always wins by the size of his victims compared to Louis’, earning Louis’ rolls of his blue orbs which are exactly Zayn’s intention.

He pulls Travis back to their initial view. Ahead is not less the same from their back, just trees with green leaves on their branches, on the land, leading to a black space.

 

AT THE OPPOSITE side of the forest, a young adult pushes his feet against the edge of his dark, blue cloak clearing his way with his open palm, leaves fly all around his path. He has left his companion at the house, insisted that people would try to break in. Harry mumbles words through his pouting lips. Something must have been bothering him.

Well, something has.

Just after he left to get some herbs (or ‘evil’ herbs, he’d say), Harry is surprised by a familiar figure of his sister’s shadow before he realized it wasn’t just his imagination–Gemma was there, her blonde hair fell loosely just under her shoulders. Of course, her dress was more magical than his–crystal blue with a tint of white swirls covering her whole body from under her neck–but what does he care? He was pretend woman. No reason to be competitive over appearances.

It’s not like Harry hates his sister; she is the most important person to him than anyone but sometimes Gemma is just distant from him. She seems to be doing it on purpose. Her ability, her magic has let her teleport anywhere and she wants to travel all kingdoms, leaving Harry on his own with his plan to destroy Demetria. Gemma just doesn’t want to take part in it. She has her reasons. Harry has his.

Occasionally, she would spare her time to see her younger brother when she misses him. She always does, but if she had visited him more often, he’d probably try to convince her to join him to the point he cries.

And as always, Gemma disappears into thin air with a snap of her fingers. So, Harry is upset. At some point, he crushes some of the falling leaves into ashes with the mist in his palm. He watches the black dust sprinkle the grass in front of his feet. He takes a step forward, missing the white fur just before him.

A very, close neigh fills the space and Harry in response gasps and holds his chest. His face is his natural features; the shining, big, green rings are completely obvious behind his long lashes as he stares at the man on the horse. Like a knight in shining armor–well, without the armor–a prince widens his blue eyes. For a few moments, the two colours lock each other. Harry’s heart skips a beat at the beauty of the man under the sunlight.

The man jumps onto the ground, boots firmly stamping the soil beneath the grass their perfect shape. Harry takes a step backward, the thumping inside gets louder when the stranger nears him.

Then, a beautiful voice speaks, ‘My apologies–are you alright, Fraulein?’


	2. Zayn the Ice Prince

The atmosphere pulls the strings of air around the two–one feels the tension. Harry still holds his chest, his heart feeling like a magnet that finds the other pole in the other man. Taking a further step behind, Harry watches as the man stop and look at him, confused.

‘I mean no harm, Fraulein,’ the prince says carefully.

Harry swallows. His face falls. ‘’m alright,’ he replies and sees the shorter man raise an eyebrow at him with a slow, curious hum escaping his throat.

‘Is it much of a favour if I could see you?’ the prince asks.

Before Harry could answer, the man decreases the distance between them. The leaves grumble below him until two boots stop an inch away from Harry’s; still, Harry never moves. Although his height only touches Harry’s chin, the man tilts his head to get a better look of the mysterious face.

An amused smile creeps up the prince’s face. ‘Interesting,’ he mutters. ‘What’s your name, Fraulein?’

Harry looks up to see the blue eyes–so gentle, so kind. The smirk tells him that the prince has something else in mind. Is he in his disguise? Did his raspy voice give him away? But he still calls him Fraulein; perhaps he _is_ in his disguise so the voice doesn’t matter.

‘I-I’m Harr-‘ Harry hesitates, ‘Harriette!’

The prince pulls his head back, surprised, the playful smile never falters. ‘Harriette? As in Juliette? Paulette?’ each time he says a name, he steps closer to the shy man, who continues to move back.

Realizing the other man is teasing him, Harry stands firm, causing the prince to stop short. ‘Y-Yes! It’s a name, and I’m offended that you haven’t heard of it. We should hear yours then!’ he tries to shout but the prince notices his adam’s apple fall and rise.

Their conversation is interrupted halfway by a distant voice calling his name. It gets louder every second Harry reverses his walk.

‘Louis!’ the voice repeats.

Louis reaches forward to catch him before he escapes, but only in vain.

With a sigh, Louis returns to Travis and leads them towards the voice, reunites with his fellow friend who has a creature’s head tied by its horn to his horse’s saddle. They went for another round of battle in which Louis lost yet again before going back to the castle, one heart filled with pride, the other have butterflies in his stomach.

He couldn’t explain what he is feeling but he’s never felt this intrigued about a person. And that person is a mysterious beauty he hasn’t seen in twelve kingdoms.

That night, Louis turns into a deep sleep where he finds himself running, searching into a black woods. Something is coming his way.

***

The gate closes for knight training the next morning and Harry has already passed the sea of people without getting caught. He has mint blue linen covering his whole body and silver steel at his chest and joints–it feels like tiny children trying to hang onto his skin. It takes a while before he could adapt to the heavy weight he has under his boots. Well, actually, they belong to a poor knight he has just put to sleep tied and hidden in a barn.

He barely walks to the most crowded area, people shouting, chattering engulf the sound of steel continuously hitting each other. When he enters the layers of people, Ed flies off to the nearest tower, watching from afar. From there, it sees Harry amongst all people the size of kitten, pushing through his way.

Then, in the ring of excited people, a sword falls and one of the two men has a sword pointing at him.

‘A lazy week, innit, Grimshaw?’ Zayn, as Ed recognizes, says with the sword in his grip. ‘Rise.’

One of the mightiest knights of Aven has his face covered in shame as he takes his weapon and joins the crowd, his friends shaking his hand and calling him encouragements at which he nods.

‘Next?’ Zayn huffs.

Just at that moment, Harry falls into the space. Ed pats his face with the feathers of his wings and shakes his head.

‘Oops,’ he mutters, nervous as all eyes are on him.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. The other prince is at three people next to the scene and he doesn’t miss the face of the offense. A small smile tugs on his lips as he wonders why the stranger from the woods is suddenly at the castle.

‘Hi,’ Louis greets, and the bystanders step back in an instant to give him way. He reaches out a hand to Harry who looks at him in shock, palms still intact with the ground. ‘Need a hand?’

‘Save the deed, my friend. No one has the time in a battlefield,’ Zayn says, ‘he’ll be dead before he knows it. You know it’s the rule of training not to offer a weak hand unless for an opponent himself.’

Louis doesn’t move a muscle as he speaks, ‘I honestly think he doesn’t belong here, dear friend.’

‘He is in armor, is he not?’ Zayn pushes his sword against Harry’s chin, telling him to get up.

The man on the ground looks between the cold steel and the welcoming hand back and forth, before Louis pulls away reluctantly, knowing well Zayn will not back down.

‘Rise, young man. Show me the blood of your honor,’ Zayn says.

Harry swallows. If he says he’s not part of the team, he might get into much bigger trouble. He’s heard of how the Malik family shows no mercy to people who try to fool them, let alone someone who interferes with the royal activity and puts its attendee into slumber during training. Let alone someone who has poison kept in his pocket.

Finally, when Zayn clears his throat, Harry pushes his feet and stretches his stiff legs into the space and the crowd chants once again.

Zayn almost curses under his breath when he sees Harry’s current state –the sword vibrates in his sweaty fists and it barely makes it above his hips.

‘Are you trying to test my patience, young warrior?’ he asks, rolling his eyes to the sky and pushing the tip of the sword into the ground. When his gaze drops back to Harry, he discovers a sword flying towards his way in half a circle and he quickly steps backwards. His eyes widen in both shock and anger at the gasping man five feet in front of him. ‘Are you?!’ he yells.

‘Forgive me, young Highness! I-I’ve never held a weapon before!’ Harry blurts and little does he know that the other prince laughs quietly at his carelessness. At the far end, Ed sighs.

‘What are you blabbering about?’ Zayn shouts, ‘How can you be here wearing that without any experience?’ he points at Harry from end to end with his sword, ‘And even if you don’t have it, one does not simply throw a heavy sword to a royalty’s face! Are you some sort of idiot?’

He doesn’t know why he even apologized; the prince’s death is what Harry’s trying to achieve.

‘Look at me, strange man,’ Zayn calls, his voice softer but still cold. Harry obeys his order. ‘I’ve never seen you here before. Which kingdom are you from?’

Harry gulps and Ed flies closer to the field to where he can still see the commotion.

‘I-I’m from here, but I’m substituting for my brother,’ Harry lies. His chances of survival are getting thinner the more Zayn speaks.

Zayn’s eyebrows cease. ‘Who?’

‘U-Uh-‘ Harry stutters, an eye shut, ‘Victor?’

Silence fills the air, only the crowd’s whisper swims through. Louis taps his forehead with the ends of his fingers. He doesn’t know what’s in Harry’s mind to come here and cause trouble for himself. If only Zayn wasn’t as stubborn, Louis would’ve saved the stranger easily. He knows what is waiting for people who underestimate the intelligence of the crown prince.

‘Victor the son of Guarmio?’ Zayn asks.

Harry nods slowly.

‘Oh, I was wondering where he was,’ Zayn nods in approval as he lets his sword stand on the ground and approaches Harry, hands on his back. ‘What happened to him?’

A sigh of relief escapes his throat. ‘U-Um, he’s not feeling well, I guess.’

‘I don’t think this kind of substitution does much of a difference. It’s almost like trading gold with dump,’ Zayn hisses. ‘I am not a fool, young one. I don’t know whose uniform you’ve stolen this from but there isn’t any Victor around here. If you had that kind of luck today, it would be the prince of the kingdom letting you go right at this moment.’ At this moment, his nose is touching the imposter’s. Harry shivers at his breath. ‘Leave.’

Louis raises his eyebrows. ‘That’s a waste, innit, Zayn?’ he asks, the smile disappears from his face.

‘What is?’

‘This man. I’m bored. What’d you say, I win and I get to have him as a slave for today? And if I don’t, you’ll set him free just as you’ve decided,’ Louis rubs both sides of his dagger with his fingertips. ‘This is my choice of weapon to challenge your sword, my friend. You up to it?’

What is happening? Just a moment ago Louis was trying to save him from wrath; but why is he doing the exact opposite now? Harry looks at Louis questioningly whilst murmurs stretch about how an honor it is to be a prince’s slave.

Zayn smirks. Louis never volunteers for a challenge. ‘Sure. You know you’ll lose, Lou.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Zaynie, it’s that face you have with that thought that makes it funnier, why do you think I let you win every time?’ Louis returns his smirk.

‘And you couldn’t find any less common excuse?’ Zayn shoots, earning a frown from his friend.

All of a sudden, Louis enters the space, motioning Harry to join the crowd and winking in the process. Harry feels his blood rushes inside him as two men pull him out of the way. Is he becoming a bidding object to these two royalties? Either way, this is getting ridiculous. All he wants to do is go to the castle, pour a little bit of his deadly poison into Zayn’s water bottle and leave. He should’ve listened to the owl–never rush into his planning.

That owl should’ve said it told him so, right about now.

The battle starts with a swish of sword and two daggers forming a cross blocking it from reaching its goal. Zayn forces the sword downwards and the daggers shudder under it, the three surfaces creating shrilling sound of steel. At this point, Louis’ one foot slowly easing behind while the other stays put.

With one push to the side, Louis exchanges his grips on the daggers repeatedly like a professional juggler and turns the sword around by its tip. He focuses on his view–the two make double circles, one bigger than the other, like the eye of a devil. He has to keep going or he’ll definitely lose the match.

Unable to keep up with the heat in his fists, Zayn lets go, hissing at the pain.

‘Told ya’, mate, winning all the time is thirsting,’ Louis says as he throws his daggers straight into the ground, his hand hurting from his own tactic.


	3. Louis the Prince Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii again sorry for the late update but here it is. be reminded that every chapter consists of about 1.6 to 2.1 k words short yes but hope they're worth it

The day went by quicker than Harry has imagined. After spending too much time staring at the beauty that is his master for the day -as it seems -and doing what he is told, Harry never complains. Even when Louis left the battlefield he asked Harry to nurse his bruised knuckles and not a word did he receive in return but a concerned question to know if he was alright. Louis has found this amusing however, the fact that Harry cannot hide the red that formed on his cheeks when Louis said he made him okay. And every once in a while Louis would turn from his practice watching how Harry's curls would fall over his green eyes during cleaning and only leaving his lower facial features for Louis to observe.  
  
About the third round of archery, Louis sees one of his knights take the empty seat next to the part-time servant and he turns his head back to the target before getting caught.  
  
'Nick,' the knight says, taking one of the arrows on Harry's lap and polishing it like Harry does. The smile on his face tells Harry the knight is just being friendly.  
  
Harry keeps looking down at his hands. 'Harry.'  
  
'Looks like the prince fancies you,' Nick speaks, rubbing the stain on the brass with the towel in his hand, 'I mean he's kind to everyone but to be trusted to take care of his things, that's really impressive.' The knight gives a meaningful smile to Harry. 'It's really something to be jealous about.'   
  
Harry clears his throat. Blood heats up his cheeks.   
  
'Grimshaw, how professional of you to be chilling during practice,' Louis says. A bow is set next to Harry's chores. 'It wasn't amusing seeing your performance before.'  
  
'I like to see his proud face just as you do. Now that part was amusing, wasn't it?' Nick smirks, earning a frown from the prince. 'But I do apologize, Louis, it seems pretty sad to leave this young boy without company.'  
  
Harry looks at them back and forth. The air around them suddenly tenses as the prince's eyes turn cold, something Harry never knew could exist.  
  
'Now that's not something you could decide on your own, is it?' Louis asks. 'Get back to work.'  
  
Nick stands on his feet and bows before the prince. When he watches him join a group of trainees, Louis turns back to Harry, his blue eyes now warm.  
  
'I'm sorry for that, he's a bit difficult,' Louis shakes his head, 'I like his brother more, to be honest.' He smirks as he notices the pout on Harry's lip. 'Anywho, he's right about some things. Do you want to try out?'   
  
'N-No, I can't-'  
  
'Bring the arrows along,' Louis cuts before Harry could finish his words.   
  
With no further excuses, Harry slings the cylindrical bag to one shoulder and scoops all the arrows into his arms as he catches up to the armor two feet in front of him.  
  
As Louis spins around, his eyes widen at the boy struggling to keep up. 'Harold, what in Malik's kingdom are you doing?' It's a pun really, and he wants Harry to laugh but he sees how busy he is with the arrows. Jokes aside, Louis realizes the weapon could fall anytime so he runs forward to lend a hand, not a second earlier before another pair of hands reach for the falling brass.   
  
'Seriously, we could've rid this obstacle if you listened, Lou.'  
  
Harry looks up to see Zayn's ice cold eyes penetrate through his own.  
  
'You didn't have to help in any way, I could've helped him,' Louis hisses, annoyed by the fact Zayn arrived at the perfect time.   
  
'These things are sharp. To a commoner like him, it's no different than knives to a child. Why are you giving him this task?' Zayn throws the arrows into the bag on Harry's shoulder and takes them into his own hands. Although the gesture seems forced, Harry can hear concern in the prince's tone. Perhaps Zayn isn't as bad as he seems. 'He's weaker than a seal.'   
  
Well, maybe he is.  
  
'Hey!' Harry cries, offended.  
  
Zayn's brows rise. 'Are you aware you just raised your voice at a royalty?' He doesn't wait for Harry's reply when he turns to Louis. 'Where are you going anyway? We're not finished.'  
  
'Nowhere. Just figured Harry could try new things,' Louis shrugs.  
  
'Dear Lord, tell me why are wasting your time on this peasant?' Zayn complains, his sword dangling on his belt everytime he paces. He immediately regrets it once realization hits him.  
  
Louis' eyes darken. He takes Harry's hand then, pulling him towards one of the targets ahead. The faint sound of heavy steps follow him from behind, guilt written all over the offence. He's known the man since they were little children; he knows when Zayn is sorry. To mention a name that entitles his ancestors doesn't really amuse him. And he knows Zayn is not one easy to admit his mistakes, to apologize. In the end, it's always Louis who has to mutter the first word and everything will be forgotten.   
  
Taking a glance on the scattering arrows on the ground, Louis ignores the provider and takes off his leather and steel gloves for Harry.   
  
'Highness, these won't fit,' Harry hesitates to tell.   
  
When he notices, Louis blushes.  
  
Beside him, Zayn laughs. 'Use mine,' he says, 'just because I'm suddenly not in the mood to practice. Thanks to a certain someone.' He receives another cold glance from his best mate.  
  
'Do I have to? I can't do archery,' Harry sighs as he puts on the defence.  
  
'Well, Lou was going to teach you wasn't he?' Zayn mocks now he knows the huge size difference between the two. There is no way Louis could be leading him without it seeming ridiculous.   
  
Louis pushes the prince by the shoulder as he tells Harry to pull the string. The young boy ignores the childish act around him and closes one eye.   
  
'That's not enough, Harold. Your wrist has to be in level with your shoulder.' Somehow, Louis manages to say it gently.   
  
'It's not possible, Your Excellency. This thing is stiff.'  
  
Louis chuckles. 'You're stiff, not my Jane.'  
  
'Jane?' Harry's lips pout as he mumbles the word and tries to hide a smile in vain.   
  
'Yes, Jane. You find that funny?'   
  
'It's a bit strange,' Harry smiles, nodding, 'but it's adorable, Your Highness.' Red shades cover his face and Louis' once he said it.  
  
Little do they know the other prince is already rolling his eyes at the scene right after his arrow hit the second ring from the circle of the target next to them.  
  
'What are you two doing? Time is running,' Zayn calls.  
  
Louis clears his throat. 'Anyway, it's you. You're too stiff, you can't get it like that,' he says with the blush still visible.  
  
'This is as far as I can go,' Harry cries, his arm shaking now before he lets go. The sharp end of the arrow hits the ground and the stick falls.   
  
'Come here,' Louis says, taking an arrow from his bag and putting it in Harry's hand. He settles the middle of the stick in between two Harry's fingers and pulls his hand to lock the string of the bow tight in a half fist. 'Try it again.'  
  
He watches as Harry once again pulls the string back, still quite stiffly which only makes the Aven prince grin. Louis wraps his fingers around the grip and helps Harry pull. Only halfway towards his shoulder, Harry bends his arm upwards and spreads it so he could push Louis to his front and put his arm back to the initial position. The older prince widens his eyes realizing he's in between two larger arms now, the blush darkens, his ears warm.  
  
'You were struggling. Is this easier?' Harry asks, unaware what he is doing to the smaller man. Nevertheless, Louis nods and continues pulling the string, his other hand now gripping on the wooden carve.   
  
The bow changes its shape and Harry finally reaches his shoulder. His lips bite the end of his tongue by their edge as his eyes focuses on the target. Louis otherwise has his eyes on their hands, his face never turning pale.  
  
'See? Ridiculous.'   
  
When the mockery from the other prince arrives, the grip loosens and the arrow shoots through the air in a straight line and in a blink of the eye, its head digs the circle, earning shocked looks from all three, and some watchers in a distance.  
  
'What was that?' Harry shouts, but his face is full of excitement.   
  
'Well that was archery, my man!' Louis says, clapping his hands. He immediately forgot how bashful he was a minute ago.  
  
Harry ruffles his hair still so pumped. 'I didn't even use-' he stops halfway, biting his lips and looking at the two princes in horror. Louis raises an eyebrow but he lets his thought slip at Zayn's huff.  
  
'Beginner's luck,' he mutters.  
  
'Or team power,' Louis says, 'They say two is better than one.' Before he knows it, Harry is already laughing at the joke.  
  
Whilst a crowd slowly form to watch the newbie with the princes and give a round of applause and whispers of admiration despite the earlier match, another commotion awaits a distance from them before everyone notices by a screaming voice crying for help.  
  
'Prince Zayn! Prince Louis! Hemmings! There's something wrong with him!'   
  
Then, without giving a chance for his mind to process what is happening, Zayn rushes through the men surrounding him towards the cry. Murmurs get louder the second prince Louis enters the scene. What lies before them is a blonde man in armor, a ring on his lip, now in the hands of the crown prince, shaking against the Zayn's knees, his eyes white and white liquid escapes from his mouth. The two men call each other's name, one of them barely pronounces the right word. At the side, Louis notices the red chemical falling out of a bottle. He immediately orders Nick to call the kingdom's physician, crouching down to dip his glove into the liquid, only to see its steel rust.


	4. Luke Hemmings the Sad Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii im sorry for the late update ive been busy (not really this is an excuse) but thanks for the kudos and i hope youre enjoying whatever this is im writing so far

The castle is quiet. A small man scurries to the department of health, in his hands a bowl of white liquid trying to escape its walls. Several people give way to the man, some bowing but he isn't a noble; just someone trusted to bring a possible cure to a dying man. He nods at the guard by the door before he enters a room, whispering a soft greeting to the worried looks he receives.  
  
A long-bearded man holds his hands out and the warmth of this cure spread across his palms. The crown prince mumbles encouragement to the man shaking on his lap, his face calm but worry in his eyes.  
  
'This could only cost him consciousness, lessen the pain. He'll get better by tomorrow but better is not enough, Your Highness,' the physician says, 'I cannot promise this will not affect his sanity. The poison is deadly.'  
  
Zayn listens to the explanation, how this liquid moves to the victim's brain, how it has the effect of a magical power, all the while he is stroking Luke's sweaty head. The palm of his hand transfers his warmth against the coldness under, he feels his knight's shiver slow and his breathing calm. A few moments after, he hears a sigh and although the knight has fallen into a slumber, based on the physician's statement, he will be awake and unconscious still.  
  
The other prince is by the door, arms crossed under his chest. Nick sees his chest fall after the long while of his comrade mumbling nonsense and follows when Louis exits the room, quiet and mysterious. It is all he could do not to ask the prince a question and just accompany him a step behind in silence. After all, he's never been the prince's favourite because he's always the teaser back in Aven – he'd pull a trick at Louis for all he cares – so it might be the best thing to not be on the prince's bad side now, especially when he's thinking.  
  
They have passed a few buildings in the castle, the endless walls of guards and falling heads in respect to the Aven prince and the special guest behind him who keeps turning his head at the attractions around them. It's Nick's first time at the kingdom (and to this point he has no idea why Louis picked him to go with him) and most of the wall structure were pure gravel and gold he's wondering if people ever tried to peel the substance off in the middle of the night. The thought stops following the prince's step.  
  
'Would you stop that?' Louis asks.  
  
Completely baffled, Nick opens his mouth, and words only come seconds after. 'What did I do?'  
  
'You make ridiculous awe sounds and it's embarrassing me.'  
  
'I apologize, Your Highness.' Nick bows.  
  
Turning his head back to the front, Louis continues their walk to nowhere.  
  
'Where do you think Harry went?' Nick asks as he hurries behind him.  
  
Louis stops again, this time Nick manages to keep a fair distance. 'I don't know Nick, why does it concern you?' he says as he spins around.  
  
'I don't know. I find it suspicious.' Nick looks down, not daring enough to see Louis' eyebrow rise, the look on his face that's there whenever a knight does wrong back at the kingdom. 'I mean, he immediately disappeared after that knight-'  
  
'Unless we have the evidence, pin-pointing is not a fair conclusion. Grow up and think wise, young man.' A bow and Louis nods and turns back to the other direction of the hallway. He doesn't know how old Nick is or if he's far from his own, but Louis is entitled to call the knights as he pleases. Guilt does, however, seep through him realising that he's not been honest to his words – despite his affection for the man, Louis does find the situation a bit strange. _Why did Harry come to the training?_ And it isn't as if he didn't notice Harry reverse and walk through the crowd of people, pale and stiff.

 

He sighs, hoping he isn't fooled by the genuineness he sees in those emerald eyes. He hopes it isn't him. It couldn't be the boy who couldn't even hold weapon in his hand.  
  
They pass the same path they followed the physician this afternoon. At night, the castle is sparkled with luminous lights, as if it belonged to the dark sky, next to the stars, casting shadows over the tragic situation inside. Louis has told Nick to go ahead and enter the room once again which, although he not looking forward to watch the man hide his misery in his sleep is an excuse for himself, he initially doesn't agree for the fair fact that his duty is to protect the prince. With hands on his back Louis proceeds towards the emptiness opposite to the room, oblivious to the eyes inside the metal helmet all across the hallway.  
  
He's watched the grass move at the direction of the soft wind. Just like Harry's brown locks did before they settled on his eyes and he liked seeing those lips pout to blow them away. He'd push them behind his ear after the few minutes he did it but they fell back when he looked down polishing Louis’ arrows, an innocent face, and Louis really liked it. _Was that all just an act?_ No person in the right mind with serious plan in hand has the time to do all that, and if he does, _damn_ he's a very good criminal. He's been there in his watch, when did Harry have the time to set it up, with all eyes on him?  
  
The prince is actually considering if the boy who couldn't handle a sword is a murderer. A smile on his lips and a shake of his head, Louis turns his heel, attempting to visit the kingdom's precious knight, when a sight catches his attention.  
  
  
  
The sky starts crying as a drop of tears leaves the corner of the knight's eye and he mumbles in his sleep. A woman – golden hair and bluish eyes – comes to the black of his sight, a smile absent. The same woman Louis sees at the wall of the main building, though the silvery light from the moon glistens the darkness of her eyes – she's staring under her hood and Louis could feel his hair stand in the back of his neck. Nonetheless when he starts moving, she gives him the most puzzling look before turning around and walking towards the back gate.  
  
Louis is running now, but the woman maintains her pace, never looking back. He reaches the open gate door, scanning through the depths of the forest – nothing. His foot passes the barrier. A quick swish of wind slips near to his ear, and then a thump – his eyes follow as a long stick zips through and pokes its head in the crack between the bricks that made the gate wall. There is a sparkle that follows after, and Louis isn't surprised to see a crumpled piece of paper dance at the hit. He looks around as he pulls the pale blue arrow away from the cement and takes the paper in his hands.  
  
 _Taste thou lusting blood  
Fear not the dawn of Xard_  
  
***  
  
'Preposterous.'  
  
The door flies open when the crown prince leaves the room, Louis following behind him. He's just received the letter, one the physician believes to be a warning from a party and tries to explain that, as he predicted, the cure for his knight can only be obtained from the next kingdom, a kingdom he _loathes_. Louis sighs, it is indeed quite preposterous to cross the barrier and invade the country for a purpose of their own. It's no less than owing the kingdom life.  
  
'It's the only option, my friend,' Louis says, increasing his walking speed to catch up to Zayn (who is at least an inch taller than him). 'The person knows what she's doing. To know the solution and your pride. It's smart.'  
  
Zayn takes a deep breath as he stops. 'Yes, it's planned and you're suggesting we follow like donkeys?'  
  
'Lord, I'd love to see you be an actual donkey,' Louis rolls his eyes, mockery clear in his tone. He glares back at the impatient prince. 'I'm saying we follow and study this closer.'  
  
Zayn eyes him carefully to find a hint of playfulness in his expression in vain.  
  
'After all, one of your mightiest knights is dying. It's your duty to protect the country, to protect your people.'  
  
Sighing, the crown prince walks back to his front, scenarios playing at the back of his mind if he ever gets to Xard.  
  
'And how did you know it's a woman?' he asks after the silence, just as a door opens to reveal a long dining table, chocolate like the many tall chairs that surround it. Two maiden pulls each chair – at one end – back easily to offer the princes a seat.  
  
'Oh, it's a woman, alright.' Louis smirks.  
  
An eyebrow raised, Zayn watches his friend nod. 'How?'  
  
'I saw her, Zayn. She's a glow in her eyes, I don't think that's something you see in a normal person.'  
  
'You said the same thing about that curly-headed lad this morning.'  
  
Louis' face lights up, and the crown prince isn't surprised to see him smiling. 'That's a different kind of glow.'  
  
Zayn groans; he swears that Louis' interest in the guy is getting out of hand, like it's not just mere curiosity but some kind of attraction, and he is a bit disgusted. Men aren't supposed to like other men – that's the rule. He wouldn't mind if his friend is indeed crazy about that stranger, but no kingdom of this era would accept it and he best makes sure Louis isn't risking his life for it.  
  
'I thought you didn't see anything?' he asks when he realises it.  
  
'It was all too fast. I wasn't sure if I should tell them about it.'  
  
Their conversation is interrupted halfway into Zayn's next words when two lines of maidens enter the hall, one in particular catches Louis' attention.

A petite figure, long, curled hair tied into a bun and a tray of mug and glasses in her hands. Zayn's given up on his question as he notices Louis' eyes linger at her, and he knows when Louis is observing and curious. This maid sets the tray across where Louis is sitting and he notices the way she avoids his eyes. A bowl of soup arrives before him but he focuses on how his target pours clear liquid into two glasses and how she picks up the tray again in one hand, her green eyes scanning the depths of the glasses before offering each of them to the royalties with the other.  
  
Louis bites his lips, trying to hide a smile which is completely obvious to his friend. The crown prince holds his glass up and cheers, and Louis doesn't miss the way the particular maiden gapes as she tiptoes.  
  
'Wait,' Louis says, his eyes still on the lady. For once, their eyes meet but she quickly looks away, earning a small, meaningful smile from the Aven prince. Zayn doesn't get to take a sip. 'Can we exchange our drinks?'  
  
He wants to laugh at the way the green eyes widen, he really does.  
  
'It's the same thing,' Zayn complains.  
  
'I want that one,' Louis pouts, 'It has that red carving. This one's dull.'  
  
Zayn rolls his eyes; sometimes he can't understand Louis – one time he's the wise old man, the next he's a three-year-old. 'Fine.'  
  
The lady has her eyebrows twitch at their exchange of glass, her upper lip trapped in between her teeth and Louis sees how she absentmindedly plays with her fingers. Zayn doesn't miss his gaze but he's pretty sure Louis is just making the new employees nervous as he usually would. After each glass is in their grip, they clunk them together and Zayn takes a few gulps before Louis can even reach his to his lips.

He's watched the liquid, a faint grey solution and he twirls it around. He raises the glass, counting numbers as he pushes its corner to his lip, his eyes on the anxious maiden who now returns a more frightened look.  
  
Without warning, a bold movement and the glass rolls around on the wooden table, smearing now seemingly clear liquid.  
  
And Louis finally laughs.


End file.
